


Steam

by boolam



Series: the precarious domesticity of i. gallagher and m. milkovich [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bonding, Canon Trans Character, Canon Typical Though, Dry Humping, Hair-pulling, Homophobic Language, Kinda, M/M, Mickey and Trevor are friends but its only cause Ian lied Trevor out of getting his ass whooped, Mild Sexual Content, No Trevor Bashing, Porn With Plot, Relationship Discussions, Roughhousing, Sexual Content, Threesome - M/M/M, author is projecting, cause trevor is going to fucking be their couples counselor and teach them right, though its mostly sex discussion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:35:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22135666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boolam/pseuds/boolam
Summary: Trevor confuses Mickey because Mickey wants to bone him.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich/Trevor, Mickey Milkovich/Trevor
Series: the precarious domesticity of i. gallagher and m. milkovich [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1565677
Comments: 19
Kudos: 87





	Steam

**Author's Note:**

  * For [babykpats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babykpats/gifts), [devovitsuasartes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/devovitsuasartes/gifts).



> gifted to babykpats and devovitsuasartes for their great work in this underrated threesome, babykpats pretty much solo in keeping it going. i like trevor and thought he wouldve been great to still have around as like just a friend of ian's- too bad no one cared enough to even give him a last name. gets villainised for no fucking reason too, so rip
> 
> anyways, that was sad. enjoy this as some love for trevor, just a casual threesome, not a thrupple lol 
> 
> unbeta'd
> 
> mmm enjoy :))

Trevor confuses Mickey.

He was confident in a way Mickey never thought he himself could be. It felt like Trevor oozed self-assurance to the point where it soaked into the people around him, made even Mickey feel more in his own skin. Mickey supposes that’s to be expected, when it’s kind of your job to keep broken kids, like Mickey once was, on their feet. Mickey thinks he’d have turned out a lot better had someone like Trevor been around in his times. He won’t dig too much into the shit that fact makes him feel towards Trevor, getting too close to daddy issues territory.

It was intimidating at first. It was infuriating when he found out that this new friend of Ian’s was, in fact, his ex. It was frustrating to no end that he already started liking the guy when he found out what their relationship was before Mickey came back. Mickey wanted to hate Trevor, but the mousy guy had already tunneled his way into Mickey’s good books. It was intimidating because Mickey saw the appeal, could get how Ian was hooked. 

Trevor was caring but not a pushover. You act like a dumbass, he’ll call you out. He’s held his ground when Mickey decides to be a piece of shit just for shit’s sake, to mess with Trevor. Trevor gives as good as he gets though. He has even defended Mickey on the few times they’ve gone out to hang in public, not that he needs it, but having someone on your side, someone who’s as much of a little shit like Trevor, is great. That’s another thing, Trevor is convincing. Mickey Milkovich, going out with a friend to have a good, in no way criminal, time. Fiction. Absolute bullshit. Even Ian can barely manage that type of shit. 

When Trevor’s good traits weren’t rubbing off on Mickey, he felt inadequate in comparison. Luckily those feelings of inadequacy were worked out among them long before Mickey could collapse in on himself. 

Trevor was the one to slip up, once when he managed to drag Mickey out for the night, loose-lipped with alcohol accidentally mentioning how he and Ian used to party hop, get up to different activities after. Mickey dug more at him, eventually finding out that Trevor didn’t know Mickey was in the dark about who Trevor was to Ian back then.

How long did Ian honestly fucking think that was gonna last? A month of knowing Trevor is what it took before that fiasco broke out, resulting in Ian sleeping on the couch in his own fucking home.

It felt pathetic afterward. Mickey understood that he and Trevor would’ve never become friends had Ian introduced them honestly, Mickey probably wouldn’t have given Trevor the light of day. It felt so ungodly pathetic to inform Ian that he wasn’t going to beat Trevor to a pulp as he had with Ian’s previous side pieces. At the time Mickey chalked it up to there not being a thirty-year age gap and while Ian didn’t believe the excuse, he was fine to leave it as long as Trevor’s fine. In the end, Trevor was a good friend, nothing more because Ian couldn't have been happier with how things were with Mickey. Hell, Ian might've even been willing to give up Trevor had Mickey demanded that, but having the support that Trevor provided, good advice and a confidence boost to do what you fucking should, was good.

Truth is Mickey felt like less of a fucking man over the fact that the thought of Trevor and Ian didn’t boil his blood the way it should. It got him _hot,_ how pathetic and gross is that?

Trevor confuses Mickey because Mickey wants to bone him. 

It was worse off at the start though, when they’d first met and Mickey had to wrap his fragile mind around the whole trans thing. Mickey’s seen it before, yeah, but he doesn’t really think his half brother being raised by a man-hating dyke, conditioned into thinking he’s female because he grew up wearing dresses and being called Molly, really counted as what Trevor was talking about. As able-minded late teens/adults with clinical depression inducing body dysmorphia deciding to fucking do something about it. That shit took balls, man. Mickey barely scrounged up enough to come out in a dire moment, he can’t imagine what it’s like to go through the slow and taxing process of getting to your true self and then continuing to work in getting other people to see it. He doesn’t want to know what that’s like, respects Trevor for managing.

Trevor was oddly patient, answered every ass-backward question Mickey could ever come up with. Mickey still laughs at the time Trevor, in lieu of explaining, showed Mickey a video of top surgery. Trevor sat patiently as Mickey gagged and scrunched his face at the tit’s thick yellow fat revealed when it was cut into. Trevor could handle all that, only breaking when Mickey, all disgust vanished, serious as can be, pointed out that the final result looked like a smiley face. 

“I fucking hate you.”

“Sure, smiles.” He got a nasty fist-shaped bruise on the arm for that one, giving a few back with the scuffle that broke out because of it. Mickey, hand on heart, will tell you he would’ve gotten Trevor to say ‘uncle’ had Ian not intervened.

It’s weird because even with how heavily Ian gentrified their first meeting, Mickey and Trevor still initially disliked each other a metric fuck ton.

To Trevor, Mickey was Ian’s insane, ex-con, thug boyfriend; a closet case who probably didn’t give a lick of a shit to know anything deviating from his hard-set biases and shitty opinions.

To Mickey, Trevor was Ian’s mania fuelled grasp at a tiny part of who he is, a deep dive into all the stereotypical fag shit. Trevor was possibly a bad influence that might push Ian back into the nasty scene of drugs and fucking for money.

But Mickey was accommodating and Trevor wasn’t anything manic or dangerous, if anything he anchored Ian in Mickey’s time away and he wasn’t just there to lecture them about all things queer. Over time they learned that and got closer cause of it, laughed cause of it; “Fuck you, man, I don’t give a shit about the homo crap!” and “You? Of all people, _you_ calling others a bad influence. Rich.”

Banter! Banter!

After Ian and Mickey figured out that there’s nothing to feel _inadequate_ about regarding Trevor, that Mickey and Ian will always be what everything comes down to, their relationship with Trevor became a lot more openly flirtatious. Trevor wasn’t a dumbass, he could see the awkward ghetto courting ritual initiated with sex jokes and double entendres galore and couldn’t help but appreciate how Mickey and Ian managed to survive so long.

He sat them down and had the talk, asked what everyone wants from each other so that no one comes out hurt or disappointed and they can do everything right. A breath of fresh air for Mickey and Ian, really. 

How the fuck have these two not combusted yet?

They didn’t want a thrupple, or whatever that shit Svetlana had going on when Mick was away is called. Trevor got that, could see that they could barely handle themselves when there were two people, wouldn’t curse his worst enemy to get poly with these two.

Comments like that are of course what get Mickey to tackle Trevor, roughhousing when they’re supposed to discuss their weird threesome plans. During their wrestling, they somehow decide, probably against better judgment, that what they’ve discussed on the matter is enough to get down.

Pressed together, Trevor now pinned down laying on the couch, Mickey is the one eager to initiate it. He presses his semi against Trevor’s abdomen, rolling his hips against the hard surface to show Trevor the effect he has on Mickey. Mickey feels himself grow hotter at the reaction it gets from Trevor, not leaving him hanging and meeting him halfway when Trevor eagerly leans up for their mouths to meet with a groan, it mixing with the sound that rumbles out Mickey’s own chest.

Trevor tastes like coffee, sweet mint, and warmth. Mickey has no other words to describe it. Instead of the other, more tangible tastes taking over, possibly mixing in a way they really fucking shouldn’t, they take a backseat to the utter comfort that overtakes Mickey when he sucks on Trevor’s tongue, cause Trevor kisses with a softness that doesn’t come off as condescending, no, it comes off as unconditional want. Mickey doesn’t feel as though he’s being treated like glass, he feels like he’s being praised and cared for. It’s a polar opposite to the fireworks under his skin when he kisses Ian, how they’re both explosive and eager to show how much they love one another. Mickey doesn’t think anything will ever top that, but Trevor gets closer than anything else he’s experienced. The only thing Ian and Trevor’s kisses have in common is the want that Mickey can practically taste.

Mickey can’t quite blame himself for comparing the two to their drug of choice; Trevor the lulling comfort of indica, Ian the exhilarating rush of speed (well, past drug of choice. Ian’s better with that stuff now that he’s been out of the club, so it’s a rare indulgence. Lord knows they don’t need a thousand-dollar addiction on their hands).

They get so lost in how deep they get into one another that they forget about their third party, too busy rutting against each other.

If you were to tell Ian a few months ago that he’d eventually see his boyfriend eating the face of his ex, Ian would’ve assumed that Mickey turned to cannibalism before any thoughts of something like _this_ popped into mind. 

He’s struck speechless, gnawing his lip red as he fights with himself to snap out of it, Trevor’s sage wisdom cracking through the arousal and (weirdly hot) envy daze the scene had worked him into. But fuck, he really doesn’t want to cut them off abruptly.

With a new idea in his head, Ian stands up and makes his way over to the other couch, standing on his knees between Trevor’s legs. Ian leans over, arms wrapping around Mickey’s waist, chin resting on his shoulder as Ian presses his cock against Mickey’s ass, grinding into it through two layers of denim. 

Mickey tenses but shows resolve, continuing to lick along Trevor’s teeth despite the distraction. His head starts spinning when he begins grinding against Trevor to the pace Ian’s set, the agonisingly teasing friction on both sides getting him to moan and gasp, cursing everything when Ian’s plan works in getting him and Trevor dislodged. He desperately clings back onto Trevor, biting at his lip to hold on even as a hand in his hair - _Ian,_ his thoughts sing to him longingly as he tries to hold back another moan at the delicious sting of the tug - pulls him away, sitting upright straddling Trevor’s stomach.

Trevor’s mouth waters at the sight before him. Holy fuck. Ian on his own had presented as one of the hottest people Trevor’s ever fucked and he thought that’s it, he wouldn’t ever see anything better than just him. But now his eyes are following the line of Mickey arched over him, legs spread to accommodate Trevor, legs straining and hips still rolling to get friction. Trevor’s eyes linger over where his shirt has ridden up, showing a flash of pale stomach, noting for later how good it’d be to bite there before he moves on to Mickey’s arms, hands no longer holding Trevor down, instead settled on gripping Trevor’s shirt. Trevor sees the muscles even with Mickey’s arms relaxed, but an idea sparks in Trevor’s eyes and Mickey’s got half a clouded mind to worry about that. 

Ian’s about to talk, but Trevor cuts in: “Hold his arms back, Red.”

Ian... was honestly willing to postpone the whole talk, just for a little while. Cause how the fuck could you not indulge when someone asks like that? Trevor sounds the very definition of wrecked, feels a lot like it too, hot to the very core. Mickey starts squirming, about to protest the request - the _demand_ \- but Ian’s already gathered his wrists, bringing them behind Mickey to be held down with one of Ian’s hands, the other snaking back into Mickey’s hair, pulling to keep him arched and straining. 

Ian noses into Mickey’s neck, eyes Trevor over Mickey’s shoulder and smirks, quirking a brow at the other.

 _“Like this?”_ Ian asks and it’s so obviously just for show, his voice low and rumbling against Mickey’s warm skin, overconfident with how debauched the other two are, all of them still fully clothed. He smirks at how Trevor swallows and nods, fingers almost trembling as he reaches out, one hand resting on Mickey’s hip, the other groping his bulging bicep. 

There was a point to Trevor’s eye-fucking… oh right. Ian plus Mickey, that’s what hot is. He can’t help but be amazed that he’s gotten this opportunity, that he’s an ex of Ian’s that not only _lived_ but is also getting to fuck Ian again, joined by none other than the threat himself, Mickey Milkovich. _Approached_ by Mickey Milkovich for this whole ordeal. 

Mickey thrashes, not actually trying to break out of his bonds, testing Ian’s grip, twisting and tensing his muscles even more. He’s getting restless, tired of nothing happening. He’s no longer able to get any friction off of Trevor, Ian’s continued grind only driving him to crave more. He braces himself and manages to shuffle enough to move one leg off of Trevor’s side, instead pressing his knee up between Trevor’s legs, rubbing it against him with what little stability Mickey has. 

Trevor’s breath falters and his hands fall to grip at Mickey’s thigh, rolling his hips up to encourage and match what Mickey is doing. 

It feels weird, seeing this guy of a guy keening against him, but feeling his crotch to be practically flat. Trevor was lounging before their talk happened, wasn’t packing, didn’t expect them to jump into it so quick, to _be_ jumped. It feels weird, but not a downright turnoff like it would be with a girl. No, Trevor’s just something different, different in good ways, mostly. 

“That fuckin’ good, Trevor?” Mickey gets his hair pulled for the cocky question, all bravado falling as his smirk falters and a soft gasp breaks from his lips.

Trevor’s eyes briefly open from where they fell closed to appreciate his current situation, flicking up to see the wordlessly bickering couple; Mickey giving Ian a filthy side-eye and thrashing again while Ian ignores him to kiss at his neck. Trevor rumbles out a chuckle, making a show of settling back in and closing his eyes. A sitcom is what these two are.

“It’s fine.” Trevor shrugs, aiming to rile with the unaffected tone, “Would be better if I was fucking you though.”

“If we want to get to the fucking,” Ian cuts in, looking at Trevor through hooded eyes, “we might want to continue our talk.”

Mickey releases what can only be described as a whine when he’s bodily lifted off of Trevor, Ian standing up to dump him in an armchair before sitting back down next to Trevor. He pointed accusingly at the other two: “You guys are going to be kept apart until the end of this conversation to prevent any further dry humping incidents.”

“You weren’t too eager to stop it,” Trevor points out, sitting back up and smoothing a hand over his shirt in a faux attempt at getting decent. Ian’s face falls and he puts his head in his hands with a groan. 

“You’re supposed to be the responsible one, Trev.”

“Hard to keep it in my pants when your boyfriend’s such a romantic.” Trevor’s tone is empty as he gestures with his eyes to Mickey, Ian following the line of sight to see Mickey smirking as he palms himself through his jeans, eyeing Trevor. 

_“Mickey.”_

“Just having fun, fire crotch. Such a fucking buzzkill.” Mickey huffs, pulling his hand away to cross his arms as he sits back. After a beat of silence, he adds, “what now?” Ian and Mickey both turn to Trevor, not used to talking about sex before actually having sex. Trevor smiles, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the lost little puppies.

“Well, we can talk boundaries, what’s a complete no go.”

Since Ian and Trevor were pretty… familiar they didn’t really have much to talk about, have actually already had this talk, so their eyes turn to Mickey.

“I dunno, man, I don’t think I have any. I don’t want to do the fucking, but it’s not like it’ll kill me. Just kinda prefer not to.”

“Shocker,” Trevor mumbles and Ian is quick to get up and stand between them before Mickey can jump him. Ian glares at Trevor, wondering what the fuck Mickey’s done to him to make him such a little shit. He guesses it’s just the usual effect that Mickey, without any fronting, has. 

Ian pushes Mickey to sit down, staying on his feet to loom over the two of them like misbehaving children, to keep them in check. Ian gestures for Mickey to continue.

“I guess I’m more just confused on how to do things with you.” Mickey shrinks in on himself, voice more serious, vaguely gesturing towards Trevor’s crotch. Trevor wants to laugh, seeing that his work in enlightenment is far from over, but holds it in. Mickey doesn’t take well at all to being talked to like he’s stupid, cause he isn't, so it’s always better to keep it semi-serious.

“Well. _Front hole,_ ” he says it with a certain disdain, putting up air-quotes, “off-limits.” He stops, seeing the weird look that flashes over Mickey’s face, “what?”

“Can I, like, go down on you? Suck your dick...?” Mickey remembers the shit Trevor’s told him, how the testosterone pretty much gives you a cock, to some extent. Ian stares in amazement at how far they’ve come that Mickey’s offering this up; he must have it really bad for Trevor. What the fuck. Trevor leered back at him with a dumbfounded smile.

“That’s- no, that’s, uh, yeah that’s completely fine,” Trevor stammered out, sitting at attention and Ian could now see they once again wanted to pounce each other in a sexual rather than violent way. Either way, either of those is probably going to somehow make its way back to the other, violent turning sexual and sexual turning violent. Ian gets it, has done it, but _holy shit_ it’s so different seeing it from the outside.

Trevor regained some of his resolve, glancing away and mussing at his hair before turning to Mickey again, that leer back: “If you really want, Ian could lead the way when focusing on me.” 

Mickey then looks up at Ian with heat, nodding dazedly. Ian can tell he’s imagining that and he can’t help but smile at him, can’t help but to picture it too. Teaching Mickey how to play Trevor’s body like a fucking fiddle, that he can get behind. But maybe at a later point. Most people who aren’t Mickey know what Mickey actually needs, and while that scenario might be fun, it's not what Mickey needs right now.

Another time, maybe. 

Ian turns to Trevor to get them back on track: “Alright. Anything else we should get out of the way before Mickey explodes?” 

Trevor laughs lightly, nodding, “Who’s doing what is a good thing to get right when there’s this many people.”

Ian’s about to answer, but seeing the distraction Mickey takes his opportunity, getting the drop on Ian by quickly straddling Trevor. No one has even a second to talk before Mickey’s mouth is back on Trevor’s as his hands cup his cheeks, holding him close as his tongue mingles with Trevor’s. Trevor inherently slows it down, but Mickey’s eagerness is hard to withstand and he gets dragged along for it, barely scraping together the will power to gently push Mickey away. They make eye contact, brown into blue while green watches from the sidelines, a beat of silence before their bodies sing out what they want, Trevor cracking as they dive back into each other. 

It takes a second, Trevor trying to dig out of his own grave through the heat coursing through him, before he pulls away again, staying nose to nose with Mickey as to not deprive him completely. Trevor’s eyes flick to Ian, smirking at the pink underlining his cheeks as he stands there, clear as day not knowing what to do with himself. Mickey’s squirming again, pressing himself close to Trevor as he hurriedly undoes the buttons on Trevor’s shirt, but seeing how lost Ian is Trevor quickly redirects himself to what was asked earlier:

“Mickey, who’s doing what?” because come on, they all knew that if not for Mickey this wouldn’t be happening. Ian sure wouldn’t have proposed this unprovoked, lest he wants to be castrated, same goes for Trevor. They were playing it by Mickey because this was for Mickey. 

But fuck if Mickey had any brain cells not yet boiled out of him, he wanted to jump their bones too much to currently care about chivalrous gestures, how the other two were full-on placing him in charge; “You’re fucking me.” 

Any attempts to get an elaboration were dead on their feet, Mickey standing up and grabbing Trevor by the shirt to pull him towards the endgame destination, the bedroom, motioning a hand for Ian to follow and make it snappy. 

Ian pinches himself before he manages to drag his feet along the floor, heart-eyed and hot, body pulsing to get the energy out. God was he going to sleep well after all this, cause those two are definitely not going to make this a relaxing ride.

**Author's Note:**

> idk if i should finish this. i might at some point, i suppose. not much demand for it, so-
> 
> kudos and comments fuel me, drop any writing requests you might have since im constantly battling w/ the threat of going creatively bankrupt
> 
> have a lovely day :))


End file.
